


Afternoon Delights

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: During Canon, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-21
Updated: 2006-08-21
Packaged: 2018-09-03 09:10:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8706400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Sometimes Sammy can't tell when to keep his mouth closed.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

Title: Afternoon Delights  
Author: closetcrombie  
Pairing: Sam/Dean  
Rating: R  
Category:  slash  
Word Count: 1538  
Spoilers: None  
Summary: Sometimes Sammy can't tell when to keep his mouth closed.  
Notes: Not many. Wincest, mostly. Swearing.  Thanks ever so much to my darling dearest [ ](http://goddessleila.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://goddessleila.livejournal.com/)**goddessleila** , without whom this thing would never have gotten done. She brings out the writer in me. First attempt at SPN fic - hope it's up to par.  
  
  
 

  
  
  
“Dean, you can’t be serious.”  
  
Sam stares incredulously across the seat at his brother, wondering if Dean really is that clueless or if he just acts that way to get under his skin.  
  
Sam cuts to various episodes in his past that seem to indicate it’s probably more the latter than the former, shrugs, and resumes giving Dean ‘The Look’. The patented ‘yes, you’re a fucking idiot, but I am willing to overlook it just this once if you’re willing to admit to me, and the world, that you would die without my guidance’ look.  
  
Dean chances a glance over, and sneers.  
  
“Don’t look at me like that, Sam. I don’t see you calling out any older-than-fucking-Moses exorcism rituals, so shut your mouth until you come up with a better idea.”  
  
Sam sighs, a pained sounding exhalation that is equal parts frustration and reluctant amusement at his brother’s ‘plan’, and settles himself in for the long haul.  
  
Of course, he can’t let Dean have the last say. And so:  
  
“Come on, Dean. You really think spitting some Latin at this thing, dousing it with a bit of holy water - and I’m seriously wondering what kind of shelf life holy water has, cause, you know, you stole it a few months ago and…well, are we sure it doesn’t run out of holiness after a while? Maybe that’s what went wrong back in ‘99! The holy water went stale. Or flat. Whatever. You remember the job, right? That girl was possessed in Natchitoches, and you got all pissed because Dad wouldn’t let us go to New Orlea-”  
  
“SAM!”  
  
Sam stops mid ramble, biting his lip to keep from grinning.  
  
Oh yeah, Dean remembers that job. Dean remembers because he got caught trying to sneak away from the motel in the Impala, and Dad wouldn’t let him drive for a month. Heh.  
  
“You know what Sam? The next time I want your opinion, I’ll jiggle my zipper, okay?”  
  
Sam looks up, smirking.  
  
“Funny. I thought you only did that when you want a blow j-”  
  
“Sam, I’m warning you.”  
  
Huffing, Sam replies,  
  
“You know, Dean, it’s rude to cut people off in the middle of a sentence.”  
  
Dean sets his jaw, apparently deciding that now is a good time to start acting his age, and Sam takes it as a challenge.  
  
“Anyway, as I was saying - you usually only play with your zipper when you’re looking to get blown.”  
  
Sam licks his lips for effect, knowing that while Dean has one eye on the road, he has the other on him.  
  
“You remember what a blow job is, right Dean?”  
  
Dean growls low in his throat - a sure sign that he’s becoming agitated.  
  
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m familiar with the concept Sammy. Or have you forgotten that while you still thought girls had cooties, I was already making the ladies drop their panties?”  
  
Sam laughs full out.  
  
“Oh, you’re a real big man Dean. How do you think those ladies would like to know that any and everything they’ve ever done to you, I’ve done better? Or, maybe, that the only thing they were was a temporary stand in for your little brother?”  
  
Sam slides over, the leather on the seats warm from the sunlight shining through the open windows creaking in protest, and breathes heavy into Dean ear,  
  
“You think they’d want to know that they couldn’t make you come like I can, no matter how hard they try?”  
  
Sam nips the cartilage of Dean ear, tongue sliding out past his dry lips to sooth the sting, and whispers,  
  
“Because really, you know that fucking me is the best high you’ll ever have Dean. No one, I don’t care who, I don’t care when, will ever, ever, be able to play you like I do. Your baby brother is the best lay you‘ll ever get.”  
  
Sam turns Dean’s face towards his own, and give him a long, lingering kiss, hand drifting down to where he can feel the heat of Dean’s erection pressed against the denim of his jeans and squeezing just not-hard enough to make Dean keen, and slides back over to the passenger side door, staring out the window into the flatlands beyond.  
  
Sam can almost hear when Dean realizes that he is no longer beside him. There is a brief pause, and then Sam is knocked off balance because Dean is pulling over onto the side of the deserted road they have been traveling for the past few hours.  
  
Sam catches himself before he topples over, looking up at Dean, prepared to ask the fuck he thinks he’s doing, but Dean answers the question before he can ask it.  
  
“You are going to suck me off, Sam.”  
  
Sam snorts in amusement.  
  
“I never had you figured as an exhibitionist, Dean.”  
  
Dean’s hands don’t stop their work undoing his jeans, but he does look over at his brother, annoyed.  
  
“Exhibitionist? Fuck, Sammy. We haven’t seen a car either way for almost an hour now. Now stop talking and apply that smart mouth of yours to more persistent matters. Like my cock.”  
  
Sam rolls his eyes.  
  
“Why should I?”  
  
Dean smirks.  
  
“Because in the absence of Dad, your scrawny ass takes orders from me. And I don’t think ‘You are going to suck me off.’ qualifies as a request.  
  
Sam’s jaw tightens, and he prepares to tell Dean exactly where it is that he can shove it, but Dean looks over and smiles that “Hey, you do this for me now and I swear I’ll fuck you blind tonight.’ smile, and says,  
  
“Sammy, come on. I’m dying over here.”  
  
And how can anyone resist that?  
  
So Sam scoots over, again, long legs bent awkwardly so that he can get to the level he needs to be at, and decides that, since Dean didn’t use flowery words to get him here, he wasn’t going to use flowery techniques to get Dean off.  
  
He cranes his neck (because damnit, he’s too fucking tall for this shit and Dean is SO going to pay for this later) and breathes in the scent of Dean. His skin, his clothes, his cock.  
  
Sam’s tongue snakes out and laps at the precum gathered already on the swollen head of Dean’s prick, tasting salt and musk and Dean, groaning because he had almost forgotten how ohmyfuckinggod right this is.  
  
For all his teasing Dean - Sam gets off on this almost more than his brother does. Dean’s fingers in his hair and Dean’s moan resounding in his ears make Sam smile and think ‘almost’.  
  
Taking the head of his brother’s cock in his mouth (and delighting in the answering hissed “Sammy!”) Sam tongues the ridge, the slit, before readjusting himself and preparing to go down further.  
  
Dean seemingly catches on to Sam’s plan, because the next line is delivered cockily, even though he’s out of breath.  
  
“Be careful Sam. Wouldn’t want you choking on anything just cause you’re so eager to please your, heh, big brother.”  
  
Sam glares up at Dean, wanting to retort, but not wanting to let go of Dean’s dick, and takes in as much of Dean as he can manage.  
  
And gags.  
  
Fuck.  
  
Dean pulls out hurriedly, concern written across his face.  
  
“Shit, Sam. I wasn’t serious about choking you. You alright?”  
  
Sam coughs a little, and regains his breath. He doesn’t respond verbally though, just goes right back down on Dean; the sound of his brother’s head hitting the back of the seat and the strained “Fuck, I guess so.” are a salve to his wounded pride.  
  
Dean’s fingers card through Sam’s hair, serving as a gentle reminder that Dean really is the one in control. Sam reaches up and places his hands on his brother’s, bobbing up and down on Dean’s cock, tongue working frantically, and Sam hopes that Dean will take the hint because right now Sam doesn’t want a gentle reminder. He wants to be owned.  
  
Dean appears to be in tune with Sam, because between the breathy moans and the keening wails, he asks, “Do you want me to fuck your mouth, Sammy? Is that what you want?”  
  
Sam’s answering whimper is enough for Dean to understand as an affirmative answer, and he starts thrusting into Sam’s mouth in earnest.  
  
“Oh, God, Sammy…fuck. I almost forgot what a good little cock sucker you are.”  
  
Sam’s mouth is full of Dean’s cock, he can’t breathe properly, but when he can breathe in he smells Dean, and he feels Dean everyfuckingwhere and Sam doesn’t want it any other way. He feels saturated in his brother - and he loves that sensation.  
  
Sam can feel Dean’s cock pulsing, knows he’s about to come, and suddenly remembers Dean’s whole “I’m going to be a total asshole.’ stint from before.  
  
So he stills Deans hips, and swallows his brother whole milking his cock with his throat- he needs to be sure that Dean is going to come.  
  
When he fells the telltale throb, he pulls off.  
  
Just in time to see Dean come all over himself.  
  
Dean’s smile is satiated - Sam’s is evil.  
  
He slides back over to the passenger side, closes his eyes, and waits for Dean to notice.  
  
“FUCK! SAM! You bastard! Not my goddamned Led Zeppelin shirt!”  
  
~


End file.
